Since Israeli troops withdrew from southern Lebanon nearly two years ago, this border town tucked under a green ridge sweeping down to the Mediterranean enjoyed a calm that eluded other parts of Israel.

The occasional Katyusha rocket attacks from Lebanon by Hezbollah guerrillas have stopped, and the thunder of Israeli artillery pounding targets across the border is no longer heard.

After years of living in the shadow of their bomb shelters, residents of Shlomi and other communities along the hilly frontier enjoyed a newfound sense of normalcy.

That was shattered on Tuesday when two Arab gunmen killed six Israelis near the town.

After fatally shooting a shepherd out with his flock, the attackers, hidden in underbrush, ambushed cars on a road. They killed four motorists, including a mother and her teenage daughter, before they were killed in a gun battle with Israeli troops in which an officer also died.

It was the most serious attack in the area since the Israeli withdrawal from Lebanon in May 2000.

The gunmen disguised themselves in Israeli military uniforms, and one of their rifles was an M-16 bearing an Israeli Army stamp. Although the army said it had found no sign of a breach of the border fence, it is unclear whether the attackers were infiltrators from Lebanon or Palestinians from the West Bank or Gaza Strip.

The attack was claimed by Al Aksa Martyrs Brigades, linked to the mainstream Palestinian group Al Fatah, but Israeli military officials said it could have been the work of Hezbollah, which denied involvement but has voiced emphatic support for the 17-month-old Palestinian uprising.

For some residents here, gathered for the funeral of one of the victims, the shootings brought back memories of rocket attacks and deadly infiltrations of years gone by, and also a sense that in the spiralling conflict with the Palestinians, even this scenic corner of Israel was not safe.

''In the past two years we thought we had finally made it, that we're on the quietest border,'' said Shula Cohen, 47, a local welfare worker. ''We never thought for a moment that someone would come and shoot here. This means that there's no place in Israel that is secure.''

Lada Hentin, 32, an immigrant from Russia who settled in Shlomi eight years ago, said she had considered the town a safe place, immune to the terrorist attacks that have plagued Israeli cities to the south.

''We were used to the Katyusha rockets,'' she said, ''but terrorists in Shlomi? This is something completely different. Then you knew it was coming from the other side. Now it's like you've been stabbed in the back.''

Nurit Naaman, 42, a nurse, said she was lucky to have had the day off when the attack occurred, because she would have been driving by the site on her way home from work.

Born and raised in Shlomi, a community of 5,000, Mrs. Naaman said the sudden sense of vulnerability reminded her of the insecurities of life on the border during her childhood years.

''There was fear then,'' she said. ''Personal security was close to zero. We felt unprotected. Now there's exactly the same atmosphere, but today it's more personal -- the danger is more tangible. We used to leave the children at home on their own. Now they don't want to be left by themselves.''

At her new house overlooking the border, Shlomit Koronio, 46, hung laundry under a ridge dominated by a Hezbollah position. She was not concerned, she said, because the frontier was well protected.

''It's much safer here than Hadera and Netanya,'' she said referring to cities that have been the targets of repeated Palestinian bombing and shooting attacks.

But Itai Gil, 47, who was guarding the entry gate at neighboring Kibbutz Matzuva, said the attack on Tuesday had changed everything. The gate used to be left open during the day, but this afternoon Mr. Gil was opening it only after identifying the drivers of approaching cars.